The Same Old Song
by LadyWallace
Summary: Tag to 11x17 "Red Meat" Dean's having nightmares, Sam knows he's hiding something and is determined to find out what. Just a little resolution to the episode. H/C Brother-fluff/angst. One-Shot
**Last week's episode was too painful to not have feels at the end, so I wrote this one shot tag because the boys needed to talk (and hug). Just a little resolution to 11x17 "Red Meat"**

The Same Old Song

A Supernatural Fanfic

 _Tag to 11x17 "Red Meat" Dean's having nightmares, Sam knows he's hiding something and is determined to find out what. H/C Brother-fluff/angst_

Sam winced as he shifted in his seat, but was unable to find a really comfortable position. Getting shot in the gut was never fun and he had been running on pure adrenaline for too long, resulting in a collapse as soon as he had made sure Dean was alive and not getting eaten by a werewolf. He was exhausted, to put it mildly, but he couldn't relax yet either, there was a silent tension coming from Dean that he knew all too well. His brother was hiding something. He could tell from the tightness in his jaw, the haunted look in his eyes. Dean had assured him that he had known Sam wasn't dead, but he knew that was bull. _He_ thought he was dead, and he also knew that there would have been no way in hell Dean would have left him out there if he had still been alive. No, Dean had thought he had lost Sam. Again. And Sam knew what that did to his brother, and he also knew that if they left this unsaid between them, then it was just another thing that was going to be boxed away until it burst out at a bad time. They had promised no more secrets, and Sam was determined to keep it that way, no matter how painful the truth was to both of them.

He didn't broach the subject though, until they had gotten a motel room for the night, as well as Chinese takeout. Sam was still nauseous from the wound and the blood loss/transfer but he ate anyway, because he knew he should and that Dean would have a fit if he didn't. Of course, Dean wasn't exactly eating himself, though his hand was shaking slightly and he looked like he was going to be sick any minute.

"Dean," Sam said gently. "You look like you should get some food into you. When was the last time you ate?"

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean replied tersely.

Sam released a slow breath, shaking his head. "Dean…"

"Sam, please. You're here, I'm here, that's all that matters." Then he left the table, grabbing his bag and pulling out his shower kit and clothes. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Sam watched him leave and swallowed hard, unable to eat any more. The way Dean was acting, the avoidance—what had actually happened? Worry started to gnaw through him, as he considered the possibilities. No, Dean wouldn't go so far as to make a deal again, would he? He _thought_ they had learned their lesson with that one. But if not that, then what?

Truthfully, he was too exhausted to think anymore. He rubbed a hand over his face and started to shrug off his jacket and flannel shirt so he could get ready for bed. He tried to bend over and take his boots off, but couldn't stop the yelp of pain that escaped.

Dean was out of the bathroom in a second, hair still dripping and wearing only his sweat pants as he hurried over to his brother.

"Dude, stop," Dean said shaking his head. "I'll get them."

"You have busted ribs too," Sam protested as Dean barely concealed a wince as he crouched to unlace Sam's boots.

"No stitches," his brother countered. "Speaking of, let me take a look at that wound and change the bandages before you conk out." He turned around to grab a clean shirt from his bag along with the first aid kit, and Sam frowned as he saw his brother's bare back. Lots of bruises from the fight, but there were two red puncture wounds between his shoulder blades as well.

"Dean what happened to your back?" Sam asked.

Dean quickly shrugged the shirt on and winced as the sudden movement jarred his ribs. "It's nothing."

"Dean, come on," Sam sighed.

"Fine," Dean grunted. "Cop tazed me, okay? Now lay down."

Sam wanted to inquire further but didn't, and obliged his brother, grateful to be horizontal. The uncomfortable motel bed felt like a cloud to his aching body. He watched Dean's face as the older brother pulled his shirt up and gently removed the bandages, cleaning away some discharge from the wound and spreading some antibiotic cream over it before carefully taping fresh gauze down. Sam didn't miss the toughness in Dean's face and how his hands shook as he worked, probably recalling how only twenty-four hours earlier they had been covered in his blood as he dug the bullet out, all the while spouting reassurances like he always had. Sam smiled slightly. It didn't matter whether it was a skinned knee of a bullet wound, Dean had always been there to take care of Sam, and he had always managed to make him feel calm, no matter how much he was hurting.

That was why Sam only wished he could return the favor but Dean so rarely allowed him to do so.

"Well, doesn't look too bad," Dean said, shrugging off some dark thought and forcing a smile as he tugged Sam's shirt back into place, and pulled the blanket over him for good measure.

"Am I gonna live?" Sam asked with a smile, before wishing he had held him tongue when he saw the expression that crossed Dean's face.

"As long as I'm around, nothing's gonna happen to you, Sammy," Dean told him quietly, dead serious, as he flipped off the lamp without another word and crawled into the other bed.

Okay, red flags were going up everywhere now, but Sam knew the conversation was done for the night and there was nothing else he could do. Maybe Dean would be more willing to talk in the morning. Besides, his body was shutting down, even if his mind wasn't, and he soon sank into sleep despite the turmoil inside of him.

* * *

 _As it turned out, Sam_ was awake long before then.

It took a lot to pull him out of his deep, much needed slumber, but once consciousness started to tug at him, he became aware of someone calling his name.

"Sammy, no!" The voice was distressed, choked with emotion. "Please, Sammy, not again, not again. _Sam_!"

The agonized shout was what finally tore Sam from sleep, causing him to jerk upright, and instantly regret it as his abdomen exploded in pain. He curled over, gasping for breath before he looked toward the other bed and saw Dean jerking back and forth, gripping the sheets in a death grip.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, I'm sorry," he moaned.

"Dean," Sam called, getting out of bed and staggering the few steps over to his brother's. He sat on the side, and reached out, hoping Dean wouldn't hit him. But he successfully gripped Dean's forearm, feeling the tight muscles and rubbing his arm slightly in an attempt to soothe him.

"Dean, hey, wake up, I'm right here," he pleaded and shook him slightly.

Dean twisted away, but he seemed to loosen up a bit and as Sam continued to talk to him, his eyes slowly opened and blinked. Sam smiled reassuringly as his brother focused on his face, relief seeming to settle over him. One of Dean's hands instantly reached out to snag Sam's wrist, feeling the warm flesh.

"Hey, you're keeping me up," Sam said lightheartedly, though he was sick to his stomach.

Dean pulled himself up to sit against the headboard and ran his hands over his face. "I'm good."

"Dean, cut the crap," Sam said, dropping the pleasantries, knowing that if they didn't talk now, they probably never would. "We need to talk about what happened."

"There's nothing to talk about, Sam," Dean grunted.

"Bull," Sam told him. "You think I can't tell, Dean? You thought I was _dead_ back there, I know you did, and I know the kind of crap you do when you think that, so please tell me you didn't do something stupid."

Dean sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and pacing, running a hand through his hair that was sweat soaked from his nightmare.

"Dean, come on, man, we promised not to keep secrets from each other, remember? You know this stuff comes back to bite you in the ass, so _please_ tell me you didn't something we're both gonna regret."

Dean closed his eyes, running a hand over his face, before he spun around. "What do you want me to say, Sam? That I was sure you were dead? Again. That I had to leave your _body_ out there, that I tried to…" He trailed off, shaking his head as he started pacing again.

"Tried to what, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, wincing as he pulled himself to his feet as well. "What happened? What did you do?"

Dean spun around, his face red with anger, but not without tears in his eyes. "I tried to kill myself, okay?! I OD'd so I could talk to a reaper and trade your life for mine."

"What?" Sam breathed, stepping forward, feeling like he was going to vomit. "Dean, why would you…?"

"Because I'm no use to anyone, I'm worthless in this fight, Sam and you know it," Dean said. "You may have a chance of stopping the Darkness, but I'm just going to cause problems, probably just end up getting us both killed, and Sammy, you know I can't…" He clasped a hand over his mouth eyes squeezing shut as the tears finally fell.

"Dean," Sam's chest heaved with emotion as he strode forward and pulled his unresponsive brother into his arms. Dean shuddered in his grasp, and Sam rested his forehead against the crook of Dean's neck with a sigh, thinking that after everything, he may have lost him that day, and wouldn't that be ironic in the worst way possible? Sam didn't even want to think about it, and simply sent a prayer of thanks that he still had his big brother with him. He stayed that way for a long minute, before he pulled back, angry tears dripping down his face as he gripped Dean's shoulders tightly, shaking him.

"Okay, first of all, you know that's crap. You're not worthless, Dean, not to me." Sam shook his head firmly. "No matter if Amara has a hold on you or not, I can't do this without you. And next time you want to pull something like that, you better make sure I'm really dead, because I'll kill you myself if you try to do that again. Dammit, Dean, don't you get it? I can't lose you either, so stop being so selfish!" He was shouting by the end, fingers digging into Dean's arms, and Dean was watching him with wide eyes, angry, but attentive at least.

"Please, Dean, _please_ don't do something like this again. We may have lost Cas now, and if I lose you too…just please don't make me do this alone. Promise."

Dean watched him for a long moment before he finally nodded, the tension going out of his body, causing Sam to relax as well. "All right, fine, but only if you promise too."

Sam nodded jerkily, his eyes wet again. "Okay. Good." Then he pulled his brother in for another hug, this time with Dean returning the gesture, gripping the back of Sam's neck and breathing a sigh of relief against his shoulder. It was going to take a while for them to get over this one, but at least they had talked it out. This no secrets things at least seemed to be working. For the moment.

Dean finally pulled away, almost reluctant, and gave his brother a tight smile. "We good?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, returning the smile. "We're good."

"Good, then let's hit the sack," Dean told him, and pushed him back toward his bed, watching as he got in. Sam huffed with fond annoyance as Dean helped pull the blankets over him so he wouldn't have to bend, and then climbed into his own bed again, flipping off the lamp and lying on his side so he could see Sam.

"G'night, bitch," he said quietly.

"G'night, jerk," Sam replied and gave a relieved smile as he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

* * *

 **Hope you liked! If you want to check out some S11 AU, take a look at my other fic "When all is Said and Done" It's mostly set around the supposed fallout after they fight the Darkness and has the boys finally realizing where they went wrong with Cas. And Gabriel in there to show them just what they did wrong =)**


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